


Forgive Me

by boughofbone



Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Crush, Byleth realizes she has feelings and is Confused about it, Byleth struggles to understand her emotions, F/M, I guess I could tag this as like. A realization?, Lorenz's words actually fail him, Oneshot, also like a few other people i assume byleth's knee armor has a story, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 17:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21274712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boughofbone/pseuds/boughofbone
Summary: After a particularly brutal sparring session, Byleth requires assistance returning to her dorm for the evening.  Thankfully, the noble Lorenz Hellman Gloucester is willing to lend a helping hand.  Oneshot.





	Forgive Me

Felix’s retreat from the training grounds awarded her a rare moment of solitude. Words were never something the two of them shared easily, though in truth they didn’t need them. She’d felt grief dripping from his every desperate swing, equal parts pity and pride at his progress. He’d abandoned his king on the field of Gronder, and no amount of disgust for the man Dimitri had become could deny that fact. 

He’d hooked his ankle behind her knee harder than he’d probably intended to, but she did not fault him. On the contrary, with his blunted weapon at her throat she’d awarded him her proudest smile. Satisfied with his grisly victory he’d turned heel and left his professor in a haste of swelling regret. 

After the grand wooden door to the training ground latched with a thud behind him, she exhaled a deep breath. Training with Felix was cathartic in its purest sense--none of her other students understood what she needed better than he. He never held back during sparring sessions, and more often than not they headed to the front lines nursing injuries the other had inflicted. Felix trained with her in a ferocity that reminded her of Jeralt, and she sought his company often.

Tonight though, tonight had been for him. He liked the letting his sword say the things that he could not, and Byleth was the perfect outlet. She liked believing that he was learning from her the same way she’d learned from her father; the thought made it easier to fool herself into the belief she was helping.

Byleth raised herself from the dirt to sit upon the stone steps near the racks. Her knee twinged with the movement and she winced, favoring her age-old injury with frustrated familiarity. Oftentimes she found herself massaging the joint beneath the metal of her protective armor, though it was always a temporary relief. Being pulled from the saddle and twisting it all those months ago was as stupid a way as any to permanently damage herself. Byleth might have even found it amusing if her life did not depend upon its mobility.

Her former student couldn’t have known how much the injury still troubled her, for she was adept at masking pain. Rather than sit and regret not speaking up, she decided to endure the sharp ache and attempt to otherwise enjoy the evening. Darkness fell like a shroud upon her, broken only by torch and candlelight. The bulk of the army now turned in for sleep and the nightly patrols had officially begun. 

A war camp, not dissimilar to a band of mercenaries, was always quite loud. Any break from that constant, grating clamor was few and far between. Especially for a general such as herself who was constantly pulled in a thousand different directions. It was always Claude with his grandiose talk or Nader spitting his challenges; both grand and minute in scale.

She closed her eyes and continued to press upon her knee with the palm of her hand. Her body _ached._ There was no doubt in her mind that granted the opportunity she could sleep another five years without issue. Perhaps she would try after the war. 

There was a creak of groaning wood from the direction of the entrance. Eyes still closed, she raised a hand as if to shoo the guest away.

“Do not worry on my count, Felix. I am quite alright.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Her eyes opened not to Felix, sheepishly offering to bear the weight of her knee as she’d half expected. Instead she was met with with the silhouette of Lorenz Hellman Gloucester standing a few paces before her. 

Ah, the last person she’d want to see her like this; Byleth was suddenly very thankful for the cover of night. “I’m sorry, Lorenz.” Her apology at mistaking him for another was swift and largely unnecessary, but she found herself apologizing to Lorenz more often than not. “What can I do for you?”

Seemingly flustered, Lorenz approached and lowered himself to one knee before her. “Do for me? Professor please, what can I do for _you?_ Are you hurt?”

It was both frustrating and flattering how Lorenz approached other people’s pain; immediately he would intervene with the humility of a saint. Rather than finding it patronizing as others often did, Byleth thought it a welcome change. After all, the rest of her army had a penchant for treating her like a trebuchet--a weapon of war unable to feel anything at all, least of all discomfort.

“No, I am fine. I appreciate your concern.”

Lorenz hesitated, doubtful. He seemed to mull something over in his mind, and his mouth moved as if he were chewing an unpleasant taste. The concern never faded from his indigo eyes when he addressed her. “Are you quite sure? You are well enough to return to your own rooms unaided?”

Byleth studied his worried gaze before huffing a tight sigh. “If you wish to help I will not deny it.”

Pleased was not exactly the emotion that spread across his features at her submission, but it was as close as she could identify. “Of course, I would be honored.”

She raised an arm and he slipped his shoulder within, rising carefully and gripping her forearm within his lilac gauntlet. When he was sure she’d found her footing, he bore her weight across the dirt of the training ground towards the exit. It was amusing how far he had to hunch his tall frame for her benefit. They fell into a slow rhythm and a twinge of shame spread through her. “Were you looking for me?”

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes forward, walking in the general direction of the dormitories. “Indeed I was.”

When he was silent for a moment, Byleth hummed to encourage him to continue. 

“Forgive me for seeming untoward, but I actually went to your room first. I had hoped to discuss the intricacies of our assault on Enbarr over tea, as I have dedicated a great amount of time studying the city’s layout and infrastructure. When I did not find you there, I surmised that you would be here instead.”

Byleth nodded, noting how close his face was to her own; she chanced a look upward and saw his profile, lilac hair bobbing with their slightly awkward gait. It was strange to observe him so closely, as he usually kept himself at arm’s length. “When we reach my room you are more than welcome to come in and stay awhile. I will brew us a pot of tea.”

Byleth watched scarlet spread across his cheeks under the passing glow of a torch, quirking an eyebrow as he cleared his throat. It puzzled her greatly--he had just stated his intention to discuss strategy in her room. What about her invitation could have possibly warranted a blush?

They arrived before her door right as he sputtered an acceptance to her offer. He freed himself from under her shoulder and grasped her upper arm securely, ensuring her balance. Byleth crossed the threshold with a wounded gait and turned her attention to the oil lanterns. There was no way to avoid navigating the room awkwardly, as Lorenz insisted upon bearing a portion of her weight. 

Thank the goddess she kept the room spotless or they might have tripped. She patted his hand gingerly until he released her arm, utilizing her newfound independence to light the lamp and room by extension. When the flames rose higher and they could finally see one another, Lorenz audibly gasped.

The illumination allowed him to see the true extent of his professor’s current state. Her left eye was blackened and in the process of swelling shut, dried blood staining the edge of her mouth. She was covered in dirt from head to toe, her hair a wild disarray of honeydew strands. Byleth appeared very much as if she’d just fought a battalion of Empire troops with no clear victor. 

His reaction surprised her. Byleth looked down at her dirty clothes and spotted a blossoming bruise across her exposed stomach. Self consciousness overwhelmed her immediately, and she felt her face heat under his gaze. “I-I, oh,” shame lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I was so filthy.”

_“Filthy?”_

Byleth continued before he could berate her further. “I shouldn’t have accepted your help for so short a distance, I know that now. I can wash your linen shirt tomorrow and sand your armor before we march.” Byleth kept her eyes glued to the rug in strange humiliation. “I’m sorry.”

He crossed the room to meet her and she winced at his approach. The feel of cotton being dragged across her jawline caused her to jump, and he pulled her face upward from the floor. There was nowhere to run from Lorenz’s intense scrutiny, and she felt a strange jolt when their eyes met. “You think I am concerned with dirt on my armor?” 

There was only a beat of silence as she drowned in his eyes. “I did not mean to sully you,” was her quiet reply.

“Sully me?” Pain flashed across his eyes, amplifying her guilt. “Professor, it wounds me that you believe my surprise is one of disgust! You’re _hurt._ You look dreadful, and I...worry about you.” Again his pale skin betrayed his bright flush. He carefully drew the handkerchief across the blood at her lower lip, folding the bloodied bit inward for a clean corner. His eyes drifted from her own in favor of the task at hand. “You routinely run yourself ragged at Claude’s whim and I cannot bear to see you so battered.” 

She couldn’t bring herself to explain that Claude had nothing to do with her current state. Pointing the finger at Felix didn’t seem fair either, so she just sighed. While it was a relief to know that he was not overly concerned with his armor, her guilt did not abate. “Forgive me, I didn't mean to distress you.”

Lorenz clicked his tongue like a frustrated mother hen. “I do wish you would cease with the apologies. They are entirely unnecessary and half the time I don’t even know what they are for.”

Now that he brought it up...Byleth didn’t either. It was easy to analyze her every move with Lorenz; he was always so concerned with etiquette, and she had learned to apologize defensively. Surely her manners were brutish and utterly abominable in his eyes, on top of being common-born. Earning his ire was not a far fetched notion. 

She suddenly felt very childish; the two of them stood in the middle of her room while Lorenz cleaned her face, all weight hanging on one hip to avoid the discomfort of her blasted knee. Why did he always make her feel so _strange?_ “I know my manners are lacking. Apologizes seem to fill the gaps in my ignorance.”

At that, he stopped his gentle ministrations. Once more he guided her jaw so that they could make eye contact, his slender fingers holding her face in place. “You are not ignorant, nor lacking in any other quality, for that matter.” Lorenz opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then tried again. “You are...quite adept with, w-well--”

He practically burned red, his face hotter than the embers of a searing flame. She studied him with confusion, unable to decipher his stuttering, erratic behavior. Though bewildered, she was desperate to assist his fumbling; what was she good at? What on earth was he trying to say? “Fighting?”

Relief swept through him like a tide, grasping at her offered exit with both hands. He choked a laugh and looked very unlike his usual highborn demeanor.“Y-yes! Fighting, that’s what I was trying to say. You are quite adept with swordplay, an incredible warrior without equal.” 

She gave him a wan smile through cracked, bloodied lips. She managed a step backward, pulling away from the reach of his outstretched fingers. It was getting late and she very much wished to ponder his strange declarations in peace, but she had promised him a pot of tea and a discussion of Enbarr. “That is kind of you to say. Now, how about some tea? I have Bergamot--”

Lorenz tightened his hold upon the cotton cloth in his hand, looking suddenly uncomfortable. The mechanisms in her own head were beginning to turn at the visage of his fight or flight. “No no, I wouldn’t dare impose.” That was oddly contradictory, considering his current presence in her bedchamber. “It’s quite late and tongues may wag, you know.”

“...will they?” Byleth was connecting behavioral dots, albeit slowly.

“Oh goddess, why would I ever say such a thing?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation. “That is to say, tongues have a funny way of wagging when given bait, wouldn’t you agree? Yes.” He cleared his throat, feet moving backward towards the still-open door. “Ahem. Goodnight professor.” Lorenz performed an incredibly swift about-face and darted from the room. She listened intently as his armor rattled further and further away towards the stairs to the second floor dormitory. 

She stared through the open door to the inky black of the night beyond. The strange feeling in her gut that made her a self-conscious disaster was the likely same that drove Lorenz to sprint from her room in an undignified rush. It was one thing to read about something in a book and another to experience it first hand--Byleth cursed her emotional ignorance at failing to realize it sooner.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester was falling in love with her; a ridiculous concept that she dizzyingly reciprocated. Warmth spread through her belly at the realization, dulling the pain with bizzare elation. Suddenly his blush, his eagerness to help, his excuse to touch her jawline, and the jumbled manner of his speech transformed from outlandish to endearing. Byleth stood alone in her room, knee aching and eye swollen, doubled over in silent laughter. 

What a _relief._

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a Byleth/Lorenz scene set between their A and S support; all of my other work with this pair is after the relationship is established, so I thought it might be fun to explore the Butterfly Stage. I hope you liked it!


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